1

For Daniella all was darkness. The sleep mask he had slipped over her eyes encased her in velvet black. Every other sense was heightened. She heard the soft whirr of the fan and the rustle of his clothing, as perhaps he crossed his legs or shifted in his seat. She smelled the honeysuckle through the open window and the sharp tang of cologne whenever he drew close. She felt the prickling of cooling sweat on her exposed skin every time the fanned air brushed her. And she felt the tautness of the knotted bonds around her wrists and ankles. Hell, she almost felt his eyes on her. They were patrolling her body for sure, calm and alert, enjoying her, consuming her.

But chiefly she felt the soft, insistent buzz between her legs, the sensation over which he had complete control. He had plucked her panty crotch aside to insert the slim vibrator lovingly inside her, and those panties, the only garment he had left her wearing, held it firmly in place as it burred and fizzed. Currents of delicious, maddening sensation emanated from her gently moving loins to all quarters of her body, pricking her nipples, electrifying her spine so she writhed, her sweat-soaked back and bottom slipping against the smooth varnish of the chair. The buzzing increased, sensation building, her pussy clutching the vibrating pencil within, drenching her panties and thighs with a steady flow of responsive juice. Her head tilted against the back of the chair, her breathing ragged, as the tension in her body curved upwards into an exponential spike.

And then it stopped. The buzzing within her ceased utterly. Her body stiffened for a moment, before she crumpled into torpor, her satisfaction cruelly denied her. How many times was that, four, five, he had brought her to the precipitous brink of screaming, flailing orgasm, only to flick the switch on his remote and cut off the throbbing supply? Her head drooped and she hung there panting, hands working fruitlessly against the tough, nylon bindings - not to effect an escape, just to liberate her fingers so she could finish off manually what the vibrator had failed to achieve. Her pussy spasmed gently, aching and unrelieved. How could he know? How could he read her that minutely, bring her that close and no more?

Please, please... The word was at her lips, but she dared not speak it. After frustration times two she had pleaded openly and he had calmly threatened to gag her and leave the room indefinitely, vibrator resolutely non-active. 'I'll leave you there till you pee yourself, darling,' he had told her gently, stroking her hair, 'and I really don't want to have to mop up after you.' Bastard. Bastard.

The only hope was to be silent and patient. To sit there sweating on the hottest damn day of the summer, cunt-juice and perspiration pooling about her thighs in the concave seat. Serving as his visual entertainment, as he sat across from her in his own chair. The fan next to him, while she stewed in the heat. 'I've got a few calls to make and some stuff to check on the laptop,' he had told her, having deftly secured her hands to the back of the chair. 'It's tedious stuff, you'll be something nice to look at.'

And calls he had made, sitting across the living-room from her, doing bloody business. Dressed to impress in the heat of an August day for God's sake, like it mattered - since he'd obviously wanted her blindfolded from the off. Occasionally he'd rise to strut about her chair, so close that the silk of his shirt brushed against her, then he'd return to his seat. Chatting to business contacts all the while and sipping audibly from a glass - his sophisticated choice of drink seemed now a galling affectation - while his other hand played her body with the pressure of one finger. Toying, sexy bastard. Right now he was making her hate how much she wanted him.

Eric set his glass of pinot grigio next to his laptop and observed his captive. She was an exquisite sight with her petite form hanging forward limply in the chair, more so when her body was a taut bow-string of sexual tension. Which it was, of course, each time he chose to move the vibrator up to its higher settings. The bangs of her dark hair hung in dampened fronds about her forehead. Her jaw was a touch slack; he liked it better when her even, white teeth gnawed at her lower lip as her arousal grew, but he could wait for that. The fresh, natural glow of her pale skin was enhanced by the moisture that had beaded at her every pore. There she sat, his pretty little puppet, whose strings he could pull by a single switch-flick, hoisting her up into a straining full-body rictus of erotic longing. How choice to play with her, to draw her closer, ever closer to her fulfilment and then each time to thwart her. Sweet baby. Sweet, hot little rich girl. Making her body yearn, forcing her to bite down her desire every time she went to plead for release. Making her need him, making her crave his touch. Pretty, helpless Daniella.

A surge of anger fuelled his quiet lust and he picked up the remote, flicked it idly, watched as she jolted back into life. A stifled moan escaped her throat, before her teeth bit into that plump lower lip. Her smooth drumlin breasts thrust outwards, large, dark-pink nipples poking provocatively into space. And her hips began to shunt in little rotations on her seat, striving to supplement the work of her teasing, battery-powered tormentor, to push her to that yearned-for conclusion. Eric's enlarging cock slid pleasingly against the silk of his boxers, as he enjoyed the show.

His Bluetooth buzzed in his ear - the expected return call, he thought - and he answered without breaking his gaze. But it wasn't who he'd been hoping for. 'Quentin - glad you called. Been wondering if you'd finished proofing the Gaunt novel. Deadline's tomorrow, you hadn't forgotten... Yes, well if you can email confirmation to me by the end of the day that would be good.'

Daniella emitted a yelp, loud enough to be heard down a phone-line, as Eric upped the setting. 'Ah, you've caught me enjoying some adult entertainment,' he explained to his business associate. 'Classy, but highly pornographic. I'm sure you'd like it.' He smiled, as Daniella's sweat-slick young ass continued to slither about the polished surface of the chair. 'Very stimulating. What? No, I'm not. I'm using my laptop and it needs both hands. Merely a background distraction. How're things going with you?' He small-talked a while, spinning the remote idly in his fingers as he chatted.

'Okay, I'll look out for that proofed copy,' he said eventually. 'What's that? Oh trust me, I'm enjoying. Later.'

The call terminated and Eric focused all his attention on bringing his toy to the verge of an ass-juddering crescendo, before cruelly pulling her back. 'Ah, Daniella,' he said softly, as she lolled defeated in her chair, 'my afternoon delight.' How I'm going to make you pay, he added internally, and as he set down the control and picked up the glass, as he rose from his seat and strolled towards her, it almost felt to him that the crime were hers. Spoilt, pampered daddy's girl, however smart, what a pleasure to render her his plaything. Trussed there, so forlorn, so helplessly aroused. He almost took pity on her.